


The Moth

by yavannauk



Category: Queen of Swords
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-08
Updated: 2000-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yavannauk/pseuds/yavannauk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is indulging in a little furtive voyeurism outside Doctor Helm's bedroom door...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moth

It was close to midnight and the oppressive heat of the day had given way to a more sleepy warmth that blanketed the silent pueblo. The moon was the merest sliver of silver in the sky and shadows seemed to inhabit every darkened corner. If one looked carefully enough, a compact figure dressed entirely in dark, concealing clothing could be seen moving stealthily through the night - closer and then closer still to its objective. 

The blocky silhouette of the doctor's office lay just ahead. It had long been closed for the night, but the warm glow of lantern light still spilled from the window of his living quarters. It was like a beacon to the silent figure outside. As a moth is drawn to the flame, so the shadowy shape crept even closer. 

The latch on the outer door was no challenge at all to skilled fingers. Cat quiet, the intruder slipped inside, pulling the door closed so as not to betray their presence to anyone who might happen to pass by outside. Padding across the floor, sharp eyes searched until they located the door they sought - the one to the doctor's bedchamber. It was open just a crack and the silent figure peered through, drawing in a hushed breath of anticipation. Just in time... 

A single lamp illuminated the room and the tall, slim form of the doctor himself as he prepared for bed. Avid blue eyes followed his progress around the small space, admiring the lithe grace of his body and his movements. 

Quite oblivious to his audience Robert Helm began to undress. He tossed aside his dusty waistcoat first and then long, strong fingers set to work on the buttons of his white linen shirt. 

There was no conscious exhibitionism in the doctor's gestures, but, nevertheless, outside the bedroom door the silent watcher began to breathe more rapidly, chest rising and falling unevenly. Narrow lips, framed by a neatly trimmed beard, parted as Colonel Luis Montoya gazed on the - currently - unobtainable object of his lust. 

It was not the first night he had watched like this, but he dared not do more - at least, not yet. He had made guarded overtures to the doctor on several occasions, but they had been ignored with apparent innocence... apparent only until he had looked into knowing hazel eyes and read the tacit warning there. Do not pursue this, Helm's gaze had cautioned, and for now Montoya was prepared to maintain the status quo. Let the doctor believe he had conceded, until the time was right. Every man had his Achilles heel and once he found Robert Helm's... 

In the meantime, the colonel indulged himself with occasional late night visits like this. It was enough to take the edge off his desires - so that he might keep his hands off the doctor in public. And there was a certain piquancy to these stolen moments of pleasure. It amused Montoya to have this secret from the good doctor - let Helm wonder if, from time to time, he noticed a certain speculative gleam in his eyes as they conversed. 

Meanwhile, inside the bedroom, the doctor had continued disrobing. Slowly a smooth, muscular torso was revealed, the pale skin gilded by the wash of lamplight. And in the hollow of his throat the faintest sheen of sweat glistened - testimony to the heat of the night, even at this late hour. 

The enticing sight meant that more than one person's temperature was being raised. Montoya felt the flush of arousal begin to spread across his own skin, settling heavily between his thighs and bringing with it a dampness of an entirely different kind. He slid a hand down to loosen the fastenings of his breeches, slipping his fingers inside briefly to touch the growing hardness. But not for even a single second did his steady gaze leave the doctor. 

Helm himself was still blissfully unaware of either the presence of his audience of one, or the effect his actions were inciting. He dropped down onto the end of his narrow bed, bending to remove his boots. He kicked them away with a sigh of pleasure - his feet were aching after such a long day. He took a moment to ease cramped muscles, arching his slender feet and then stretching them until some of the tension ebbed away. 

Standing up again, the doctor's hands now went to his waistband. With quick motions he undid his breeches and slid them over his hips and down long, finely shaped legs. He stepped out of them, leaving him clad only in his underclothes. 

To the colonel's frustration Helm made no attempt to remove these. Instead he walked across to his washstand - which did have the added benefit of allowing Montoya a fine view of the muscular buttocks swathed in nothing more than clinging linen underwear. The doctor then filled the basin with water from a pitcher and set about washing the accumulated dust and sweat of the day from his body. 

He lathered up a cloth and wiped it first across his sharp, aristocratic features, pushing aside errant strands of the soft, dark hair which fell across his forehead. Then his almost indecently long neck came in for its share of attention, the cloth stroking firmly down its sinewy length before being returned to the basin to be soaped anew. Next, Helm bathed his chest, the rough washcloth dragging over dark nipples which contracted to hard nubs at the touch of the cool water. 

In the shadows outside the bedroom door Montoya watched every pass of the cloth and each response the doctor's body made to it. He felt another sharp jolt of lust as he imagined laving those dark peaks with his tongue, then drawing them into his hungry mouth to suckle and bite until the normally composed doctor was moaning with pleasure. 

As it was, it was Montoya himself who was hard put not to moan out loud at the mental images he had conjured up. The tip of his tongue swept over suddenly dry lips, moistening them. With an effort he forced his attention back to where the doctor continued his ablutions. 

Done with soaping himself, Helm now set about rinsing his body off with clean water. Sparkling droplets made silvery trails down the pale torso as the lather was carefully washed away. When he was finished the doctor made a small sound of contentment low in his throat, clearly pleased to feel his skin fresh and clean once more. 

Then he reached for the towel he had set nearby. For one glorious moment - from the point of view of Montoya, still observing from outside - the doctor stood, his entire body limned by the golden light from the lamp. Water beaded on his skin like jewels and his muscles were thrown into relief as he stretched out his hand for the towel. Then the rough material covered the beautiful sight as Helm scrubbed briskly at his wet skin. 

When he was dry the doctor discarded the towel once more and Montoya held his breath. This was the moment he had been waiting for - the highlight of the evening's entertainment as it were - as Helm dropped his hands to the waistband of his underclothes. Without ceremony the doctor pushed them down, baring everything to the rapt onlooker. Then he bent to pick them up and place them with the rest of his dirty clothes. 

The movement gave Montoya plenty of time to look his fill. The perfectly shaped buttocks were finely muscled - smooth and pale. It was a tempting prospect to consider reddening that ivory skin, with hand or crop, taming the doctor until he accepted the saddle like any of Montoya's spirited stallions. 

And speaking of stallions... As Helm turned back in his direction the colonel was put in mind of the old adage about saving the best until last. In this case it was certainly true. The doctor's long, uncut cock nestled quiescent amidst sparse dark curls and the sac beneath was a veritable invitation to fondle and grope. 

Ah yes... Montoya let his mind play with pleasant - and arousing - images of claiming that treasure as his own. First he would take the shaft in hand and stroke it until it began to lengthen and harden. Then, as he lavished more attention upon it, the tip would push free of its protective hood of skin, glistening with moisture. And it would be a joy to lick and suck that smooth flesh, tasting the earthy flavour of the doctor's cock until he spasmed with the pleasure of it, yielding his seed to Montoya's hungry mouth. 

Hands clenched as the colonel tried to dispel the alluring images. They were too dangerous. An incautious sound and he could be discovered - and now was not the right time. The doctor would not consent to such a dalliance - not yet. But Montoya would find the leverage he needed to persuade Robert Helm to come to his bed. He might never do so willingly, but Montoya was determined that he would submit - with the application of the correct pressure. 

Idly, Montoya wondered where the man did take his pleasure. He'd not been seen in the company of anyone from the pueblo and yet, surely, he had his needs. A good, strong cock like that - no doubt it demanded release. It would be a pity if the good doctor always had to resort to the comfort of his own hand. It had its place, but still... 

The thought of Helm pleasuring himself was almost too much for Montoya. He knew he had to leave before he gave himself away and denied himself the possibility of future late night visits. His eyes hungrily followed the naked form of the doctor as he moved around the room, setting it to rights before retiring. He seemed in no hurry to don a nightshirt and the colonel made the most of his opportunity to look. 

Finally, Montoya forced himself to back away from the door. He was breathing hard as he concentrated on leaving as silently as he had come. The ache at his groin was now almost unbearable and the colonel knew he would have to bring himself some relief before he made his way back through the pueblo to his quarters. 

Once outside Montoya retreated into the deepest shadows behind the doctor's office. In the humid darkness he slipped a hand inside too-tight breeches, touching himself and encouraging the growing arousal. With just a little imagination it was easy to let himself believe that it was Doctor Helm's hand pleasuring him - the fingers long, strong and very skilled. They stroked and probed and drew Montoya ever closer to the brink. Ah yes, so good... It was becoming harder to keep quiet as the sensations built, but Montoya had no intention of stopping now. 

As Doctor Helm finally slid into his bed, pulling the light sheet up to cover his body, Colonel Montoya reached the point of no return. He leaned his forehead against the cool plaster of the wall, holding the image of that beautiful, naked form in his mind. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out as he spilled over his own hand. The aftershocks had him shuddering for several moments more, but eventually he released a long, steadying breath, finding his composure. 

Montoya had once, early in their acquaintance, told the doctor that he needed him. At the time this had not been what he had in mind, but now... He had to have that lean, muscular body in his bed - and soon. He wanted to bury his cock between those perfect buttocks until the good doctor screamed out his delight and submission. And it would happen. What Luis Montoya wanted... 

For now he withdrew his hand from his breeches and wiped it clean on his handkerchief before straightening his attire. Glancing towards the window, Montoya noted that the doctor had put out the lamp and there was nothing more to be seen tonight. But there would be other nights. His immediate lust satisfied Montoya slipped away as stealthily as he had arrived, letting the shadows cover him as he made his way back to his own quarters. 

The colonel was not entirely unobserved, though. From a nearby window Captain Marcus Grisham had watched the figure of his superior officer steal out of the doctor's house and hurriedly disappear into the darkness. What could he have wanted there at this time of night? And why the secrecy? Why indeed... 

Grisham was far from inexperienced in illicit liaisons and a highly interesting suspicion began to take shape in his mind. Well, well, he'd never have considered that possibility before; the doctor didn't seem the type, but with Montoya anything was possible. Grisham smiled slowly - it wasn't a pleasant expression - what might he be able to do with this new-found knowledge? He didn't know yet, but he was sure he could think of something to his advantage. Montoya deserved a little payback after the fiasco with the doctor's stolen medicine. 

The smile widened, became a calculating grin. Grisham was well aware that people tended to underestimate him, but not this time. This was a perfect bargaining chip if ever he'd held one. Grisham turned away from the window feeling more than a little pleased with himself. Just occasionally life was very good...


End file.
